


This is a Confession

by DistantStorm



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, all the feelings, confession time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 22:01:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16841260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistantStorm/pseuds/DistantStorm
Summary: She shifts her weight from one leg to the other and inhales."I'm in love with the City."





	This is a Confession

She bursts into his office so fast she nearly stumbles in her march to stand in front of him. Based on her trajectory, he has reason to assume she’s been pacing outside for a while, debating on whether or not to knock, and then thrown caution aside at the exact moment she mustered enough courage to come in.

Suraya Hawthorne is an absolute hurricane of a woman, quiet and calm at her center, but wild, untamed, and violent on the outside. He is a patient man, old and weathered against the most grizzly of storms. She can continue to surge against him and he will see her through each and every time. It’s a multifaceted arrangement, because her wild is a balm against the few rough edges that persist, each encounter with her soothing them smooth and calm and new.

He does not speak to her when she marches to stand directly in front of him where he sits behind his desk. Her eyes are far more unbridled today than he’s seen in a long time. There’s a sheen to them that insinuates something has unsettled her. He knows he cannot ask what it is, because that will have her withdraw - afraid or unable to reveal to him her innermost fears or desires. She would carry the weight of the world on her shoulders to prevent herself from being a burden on someone else.

It makes her both perfect and horrible for the job she’s appointed to. She is his equal in dedication and perseverance, and his unapologetic adversary where necessary. It is heartening to hear such heated, compassionate discussion at the Vanguard Table once more. He has grown accustomed to being the only defender of humanity, their steadfast voice, unwavering. But she, she is the one who defends humanity’s heart. She knows the interests, the concerns, the priorities of the people: beyond the Factions, the Vanguard, the Traveler.

He admires her, truly. She does not seek praise or desire glory, she rewards good and honest and fair. She seeks to do for others what had not been done for her. He hates that he does not regret failing her, because she is someone that they so very desperately need, even if the majority do not see it.

She shifts her weight from one leg to the other and inhales.

“I’m in love with the City.”

His brows knit together. He folds his hands, propping his elbows upon his desk, tucking his combined fist against chin and lips as he thinks.

“That is not a cause for concern, Hawthorne.”

She inhales. It’s a wet sound, the sound of someone who is desperately trying to keep tears at bay. He flicks his eyes up at her quickly and then away. She is anxious. She is almost always anxious in one way or another - the only exception he’s seen is when she’s curled on the small sofa in the corner of his office, one of his extensive collection of books propped up on folded knees tucked beneath the afghan that’s always folded up carefully before she leaves

“I,” She looks at him, imploringly. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

The Commander almost flinches, looking up at her with wide eyes that dart in a pattern to match her own. She does not shuffle from side to side with her weight, unlike her usual. She looks at him as if he can read the very conversation she is trying to have through the color of molten umber alone.

If he were to deny it, he’d be a fool. He is very much aware that his own feelings run deep, has been for quite some time. What started as a fascination evolved into admiration, then devotion, then something far more arduous and fierce beyond his control. He knows what he feels for her, beyond any shadow of doubt. He knows that if she were agreeable, he’d pour his very essence into her soul, wrap her up in his devotion, give her the love that she so truly deserved.

But he could not give it to her, not in small doses, not at all. He knew what this was, had centuries of life that he’d spent figuring himself out. She needed to know what she wanted, how she felt, if she felt anything for him at all. Devotion and love, while two branches of the same tree, were not the same thing.

Zavala had no idea how she would advance through her feelings. He saw the spark of attraction when they’d be bent over a proposal and look up at the same time, or the something soft and sweet that would bend her lips upward when they spoke of clans and the City’s well-being and make their fingers brush tentatively.

He knew those moments made both their hearts race, left them staring at each other with gentle smiles in moments that felt like all of time was a small bubble with just the two of them inside. It was all he could do to hope that she figured it out before too long.

“I’m sorry,” She says finally, looking down at her feet. “I tried so hard not to,” She sniffles and he definitely catches sight of a tear that leaks from her eye on its descent to the floor. “I didn’t mean to, I just-”

“Suraya. Sit down.”

She wraps her arms around her shoulders. “I should step down,” She whispers finally. “I’m a failure. This will only make things more difficult for you… I just, I had to tell you.” Her eyes dare to peek up at his.

The tiniest smile is evident in his lips, but the crinkle of lines around his eyes, the glow of his expressive irises are what truly complete the picture. “Please sit down?”

She’s stunned by the lack of anger or dismissal, enough to do as he says. Her arms stay tightly drawn around her as she lowers herself into one of the highback chairs positioned to face him and the desk.

“Let’s untangle this together,” He rumbles, in his most soothing of timbres. “The easy parts, first.” He nods, and she returns it, so he continues. “You are not a failure. The City is thriving with the help of the Clans. We will be stronger than ever before. Have we not discussed this?”

“We have,” She concedes. “But-”

He tuts, and she quiets. “Do you feel that your feelings… for the City… would prevent you from arguing me on every possible point you can?” When she bites her lip and frowns, Zavala chuckles. “You do it for sport, Suraya. You cannot possibly rest if there is the chance someone - especially myself - would concede that you are right.” There’s a pause. “Do you think these feelings would prevent you from doing your duty?”

“No! No. They wouldn’t.”

“Then what is the problem?”

“That… I,” She breathes. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t hold it in, and I don’t want to make things awkward between us, but we’re already approaching that point anyway. I can’t lie to myself about how I feel anymore.”

“Why would things ever be awkward?”

She rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Okay, Suraya,” She coaches herself, “You’re just going to have to come out and say it.” The Clan Steward takes a deep breath and then, “I have feelings for you. Romantic ones.”

“I know.”

“And they’re just going to make things more awkward because - wait. You know?!” She gapes at him.

Fondly, he smiles. “Of course I know.”

Wide eyes stare at him. “But… how?”

He stands, rounding the desk and dropping to one knee before her. “Your last concern. And your largest,” He says, lifting her left hand from where it’s squeezing her elbow, “Is that you have these feelings, and are worried that they will make things difficult.”

“Won’t they?”

“Did you ever consider,” He begins quietly, lifting her hand to his lips, “That the City may be in love with you, as well?”

She inhales sharply. “Is that-”

“I am rather certain the City is fond of you,” The Commander replies, certain to make eye contact. “However, that was a metaphor. You are not alone in your feelings.”

“You… love me. You.”

“Yes.” He smirks. “And you love me.”

Her smile is like the sun breaking through cloudy skies. It’s something brilliant and bright, the likes of which he’s never seen. She is positively radiant. She cannot nod her head in agreement fast enough.

“Can I kiss you now?” She asks, darting her eyes from his to his lips. "I’d really like to kiss you.”

The laugh that bubbles from his chest is contagious. “By all means,” He says, warm palms cupping her cheeks to guide him home.

By the time he’s through with her, she wonders what she ever really had to worry about, and that’s just how he intends it to be.


End file.
